Feels Good to Get Away
by MadleyTassida and BlazeSplinder Froste
Summary: Draco replied to the calculating look, “Yes, Draco Malfoy the disgraced Malfoy heir.” The greeneyed boy smiled, “Sorry, I don’t read the papers much so, that means nothing to me.” He flashed another charming grin, “I’m Harry, by the way. Harry Potter.”
1. Chapter One

_Feels Good to Get Away, _a tale from the delirious mind of M.T. Froste

Written after an overdose of _Queen _(long live Freddie, or rather Rest in Peace dear friend) after being stuck in bed for three days after falling under the weather. All madness of the plot came to mind from listening to _Jazz _and _A Day at the Races. _So dedicated to Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor and especially John Deacon whose song _In Only Seven Days, _inspired the original concept of the story.

**Disclaimer: **Not being a pom I cannot pass myself off as either J.K. or a member of Queen, thus do not own any of their works or ideas.

**Teaser (after giving up on attempted summary): **Draco replied to the calculating look, "Yes, Draco Malfoy the disgraced Malfoy heir." The green-eyed boy smiled, "Sorry, I don't read the papers much so, that means nothing to me." He flashed another charming grin, "I'm Harry, by the way. Harry Potter."

**NOTE: **This story is AU and non magic (fully explained in chapter two)

-CHAPTER ONE-

Draco stepped outside, slamming the door to the manor behind him. Leaning his forehead on the door he took a deep breath to calm his agitated nerves. He opened his eyes, slightly calmer, only to turn and cringe at the sight of the pouring rain gushing down from the porch roof.

"Just my luck," he muttered under his breath.

He clenched his jaw determinedly, grasped his case's handle firmly and stepped through the waterfall from the roof into the heart of the downpour.

"I can't believe you're letting him go so easily," said Narcissa, "nor can I believe how calm you are about the whole situation. The family's entire future just walked out on us, you do realise that?"

"Of course I realise," said Lucius pouring himself a glass of whisky. He eyed the contents in the glass, moved the glass in a swirling motion and took a sip.

"So, what are we going to do about it?" demanded Narcissa getting irritated by her husbands lack of interest in the whole predicament.

"Nothing," replied Lucius calmly, stepping up to the rain splattered window.

Narcissa took a deep breath to stop herself from raising her voice, "Nothing?" she repeated through tight lips. "And how on earth is that going to help anything, Lucius?" she muttered quietly to herself.

Lucius didn't look at her. Instead he took another sip from his glass and went back to looking out the window. "That's correct, dear, nothing." His lip started to curl into what could only be called a true Malfoy smirk as he watched his son tramping through the sheets of water pelting from the sky. "Once Draco realises he has nothing without us, he'll come to his senses. But I do believe we may have to help him along in his understanding of this, by…oh I don't know," his lips curled entirely as the smirk became more distinct, "cutting his access to the family fortune, perhaps."

Narcissa felt the sly smile playing on her lips as she listened to her husband. She walked over to him wrapping her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. She took the glass from his grasp and took a delicate sip, leaving it cradled in her own palm.

"Don't worry, dear, he won't go through with it" said Lucius eyeing his son as he came to the end of the estate's drive. Will he look back? Lucius mused in his head.

Draco had paused at the gate, the rain was pissing down around him, though it seemed no longer a problem seen as he was already drenched. He stared at the looming manor wrought-iron gates before him. They were tall and silver, with the Malfoy crest embossed across the centre part, a wolf curled around an elaborately drawn 'M'.

He withstood the urge to look back knowing his father would be watching for any signs of weakness or of reconsideration.

"You've turned your back on all that now. This is your break and you have to take it. There's no turning back, you've come _too far_," he whispered through chattering teeth. He ran a hand through his sopping wet hair, pulled his coat tightly around him and held his head high, swallowing as he reached for the gate.

"He'll be back, mark my words," Lucius spoke calmly to his wife. "He has nowhere to go. I wonder how long it will take him to realise. The end of the day perhaps…"

Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"What?" chuckled Lucius. "You think he'll last longer. Oh you're on, darling. A bet- that our dear son will be home before dusk."

"You seem so sure, Lucius. But me on the other hand, I'm afraid I'm going to have to beg to differ. Draco is a Malfoy. He's not stupid. I mean, honestly Lucius, he's _your _son and anyone related to _you_ has a mind that works in mysterious and extraordinary ways. I don't think you're giving him enough credit."

"That's all well true, he does follow my side of the family with our abundance of remarkable intelligence and intellect, _but _you keep forgetting he has _nowhere to go_."

Draco clutched the keys to his new home reassuringly in his hand. The feel of them encouraging him to step through the gate and leave the past behind where it belonged.

"Oh fine," cried Narcissa frustrated, "I guess you're right. As usual." She rolled her eyes. She let go of her grasp around her husband and came to stand beside him. Draco was still at the gate. Inside she was shocked to find a small part of her heart willing him on, urging him to take that last step. She gave her head a sudden shake and took a larger sip of the whisky, annoyed at herself for thinking such things."And I must say, cutting his access to the fortune is beyond brilliance, dear."

Lucius pulled his wife in front him and wrapped his arms around her, "I know. Sometimes my brilliance even astonishes me."

Narcissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes again at her husband's arrogance.

"And we all know that without money, you _have _and _are_," Lucius drew breath. Through the water swept window they watched as Draco disappeared through the gates, "_Nothing._"

**A/N: **Does anyone have any suggestion as to where Draco's new home should be (ie. location: beach/on the coast, country, city etc) or what kind of home it should be (cottage, flat,any particular style home that would suit him to live in?) I'm all ears as my ill mind didn't think that far ahead.(oh and please suggestions other than _Harry's house _would be helpful. ) :)

- M.T.


	2. Chapter Two

_Feels Good to Get Away, _a tale from the now above the weather mind of M.T.Froste

**AU Explanation: **After spending a few days wondering where the hell I'm going with this story I have finally come to a conclusion and answered all my questions. First of all I had to consider is this a Hogwarts story? It's always simpler that way all the characters know each other etc. and all foundations are already layed. But then there's always the problem of Harry and Draco already stuffed by not liking each other and I really don't feel like being someone who writes a story with them going up to each other "Hey Harry, we hate each other, but I just found out I'm gay and love you." "Are you serious Draco, I just found out I prefer men too and have been in denial all my life about how much I love you and the past few years have all been a pointless façade." And no offence to anyone's story who did that but that sounds to me like the basis of a bunch of meaningless fluff and crap.

So this story has taken the turn of standing on the foundations of anything that forms in my mind. Hogwarts doesn't exist, no one knows each other unless that's how its been created in my head, though most of the main characters will make an appearance. Then that brings us to another snag: No Hogwarts, does that mean no magic? Hmm. I have decided no magic. And I know I am going to regret that somewhere later on because we all have those moments in life where we say to ourselves 'damn, I wish magic existed' and I know after making that decision to cut it there'll be a moment when it's really needed in the story and I'll be smashing my head on the desk overly frustrated. But that time isn't here yet, so I won't be dealing with giving myself brain damage just yet, let's hope I can avoid it entirely.

Next point: No Hogwarts so what's the location of all this. Thankyou to everyone who gave me suggestions about Draco's home and where it should be you really got me thinking. This is a really major point cos the decision will determine the whole outcome of just about everything. So from all your suggestions I came to the conclusion of somewhere small and quiet. The rest you'll have to find out in time.

**I hope I've made the right decision by you all and you like the route I have decided to take. Sorry to anyone who's disappointed, I'm afraid I can't please you all. So without further ado here's what I've come up with. (I apologise for how shocking long this note is but i felt i should explain).**

-CHAPTER TWO-

As Harry pulled on his jumper he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. He hadn't been to the beach in at least a month. It was a similar feeling to that of avoiding a close friend for no real reason, and now he suddenly felt as though he had to make up for it.

He closed and locked the door, tucking the key under the damp mat. The air was still lingering with the scent of rain. His lungs welcomed the fresh air after being cooped up inside all weekend. He walked down the footpath noticing how beautiful all the plants looked with water droplets still clinging to their leaves. He loved his garden, it was a little overgrown he had to admit but he liked the wild look it created, like you're walking through a forest not knowing what will be around the next turn. Besides, in his eyes all a garden needed to be was large and full of colour and that was definitely what his was.

He came to the end of the path and hopped the stone wall that was just above waist height, not bothering with the gate. Leaning against the other side of the wall was his trusty bicycle. Swinging one foot over the frame and pushing off with the other he set off down the lane.

He rode out of his laneway and onto the main street through the village. He sped down the road's slope the wind whistling past his ears, sending his hair flying in all directions. As he drew into the Town Square he pulled up alongside a small store. It was originally a grocer but as time had gone by it gradually began to double as a newsagents, bakery and somewhere to pick up any general supplies.

He leant his bike up against the wall and stepped inside.

"Hey Harry," said Lavender, sitting behind the bakery counter sipping coffee.

"Hey. Is Hermione in yet?" Harry asked glancing around the store.

Lavender nodded in the direction of the back of the shop. Harry gave her a quick smile of thanks and made his way down the cereal isle vaguely trying to remember if he needed to grab anything while he was here.

Hermione found the young man contemplating over a box of nutri-grain and grinned. Good old Harry, she thought, as soon as he gets home with that he'll realise the other four boxes are still unopened.

"Hermione…" he said slowly frowning at the box, "I know you probably haven't noticed, but you always seem to know these things anyway, do I need to buy this?" He looked up at her grinning, hoping to god she'd be able to get him out of this confusing problem. The girl standing before him had her hair swept back into a bun and wore no make-up what so ever. So unlike any other girls of her age, he thought. But this was probably because it really wasn't needed. Hermione had a natural beauty about her. The hair gave her a no nonsense appearance but after knowing her since their childhood, Harry knew her personality was the complete opposite. She was fun loving, caring and always ready for any crazy ideas he came up with.

She laughed, "No Harry, I believe the other boxes in the top cupboard above your sink will be enough for the next few months."

"Oh," he laughed and blushed slightly.

Hermione stoped herself from letting out an 'awww' at how adorable Harry looked when he did that. The last time she had pointed it out she had ended up on the ground with an extremely irritated but still blushing seventeen year old boy on top of her with his fist drawn back telling her if she even dared say that again she was dead. Of course Harry was only messing about but she had managed to stop herself from laughing at his reaction to the comment and agreed never to mention it again. He had looked pretty serious though and she wasn't up for testing his threat's credibility anytime soon.

Harry placed the box back on the shelf. "I'm off to the beach, wanna come?"

Hermione smiled at the green-eyed boy. It was so typical of him to rock up at 7am and expect her to be able leave work to come down to the beach. She and Harry had known each other since they were five years old when her family had moved into the small village. They had hit it off instantly and had remained best friends ever since. Twelve years had passed and Harry still had his carefree five-year-old outlook on life. His personality was impulsive and he didn't care what the outcome or consequences to his actions would be as long as they sounded fun and exciting at the time of thinking them up. This of course didn't make him a bad person; on the contrary, he was kind and sweet and all that she could have wanted from a best friend. She had loved growing up with him and watching him mature into the handsome young man that stood before her.

"Harry, I'd love to, you know that. But I can't just drop everything I'm doing and leave work just to go to the beach."

Harry sighed. He knew it had been asking a lot. Hermione took her work seriously, even if it was just at a village store. "C'mon Hermione," he coaxed, "We haven't been in months. It's the _beach_."

"I know, I _know. _I honestly wish I could but…" she trailed off and gestured to the shelves around them.

"I guess," said Harry glumly. It looked like he'd be going by himself, well not if he had anything to do with it. "But don't you just want to breath in that wonderful salty air, feel the sand between your toes, run giggling in and out of the waves like you always do?"

"Harry, stop it!" she said sternly, "It's so damn unfair you were given the ability to win people over so easily."

Harry grinned, "So that's a yes, right?"

"_I hadn't finished-_"

Fuck, Harry cursed in his head, so that was a definite 'No, sorry Harry, I'd rather spend my time in this dull shop instead of having fun with you at the beach'.

"Are you even listening?" Hermione asked as Harry stared blankly at her.

"No, sorry. Zoned out and started thinking about how great the surf's gonna be today, especially after last night's rain."

Hermione let a frustrated scream.

"Oh I'm sorry. OK, I'll stop pestering you. But you have to promise me you'll come with me tomorrow or whenever the hell you have a day off from this place." Harry's lip curled as he glanced around the store. He couldn't understand how Hermione could stand working here it was so…he didn't know how to describe it. It must've been a personality thing he decided, for he himself wouldn't be able to handle being stuck indoors all day.

"Yeah, definitely Harry. Tomorrow. Meet me outside Fortescue's. I won't miss another opportunity to go."

Harry and Hermione had spent half their childhood and teenage years at the beach. It was like a second best friend to them. They knew every curve of all the dunes and the best hideouts amongst them, the best places to build sandcastles so the tide wouldn't get to them and you'd come back the next day and find your work destroyed, when you'd be able to get the best surf and which days the water would look its bluest.

But their favourite thing about the beach had not been the beach itself but a small cottage built on the lane that lead down to it. The house was magnificent and could inspire any author stuck for ideas. No one lived there, this didn't mean it was run-down for it was a magnificent home, it was just that not many people came to the small town. City life was all the rage these days, apartments and fast cars, no one seemed to want to settle down in a small quaint town anymore. Why, Harry and Hermione had never known. So all through their beach days they would ride past the cottage, which Harry had named Fortescue's at the age of seven and the name had stuck ever since, so much so that even the older people in the village had started to call it by that. Fortescue's had always been a major incentive for spending half their lifetime down there and it was something they had come to love and would never be able to live without.

"Fortescue's it is then. Say 6.30am?" asked Harry. "That is if you'll be up by then."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow, "More like, that's if _you _can be up by then. So yeah, Fortescue's at 6.30."

Hermione pulled out a pad and scrawled a note to herself. Suddenly something hit her and she let a gasp of surprise, wondering why she hadn't remembered and mentioned it earlier.

"What is it?" asked Harry eyeing her questioningly.

"Hermione?" called Lavender. "Aren't these pies a little…ah...under cooked?"

Harry suppressed his laughter. Hermione had always been a shocking cook.

Hermione flushed red and walked hastily to the bakery counter, Harry following sniggering to himself.

"Hey, hang on Hermione, you didn't tell me what you thought of after writing that note."

"I don't know if you deserve to know after laughing at my cooking skills like that," she called back over her shoulder.

"Ooh, touchy," muttered Harry in an undertone.

They reached the counter and found Lavender prodding one of the pies frowning.

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. Lavender looked up at Harry and tilted her head motioning him to the door in a signal for him to get out before Hermione completely lost it. Harry gave a quick nod and smile before giving a quick salute and exiting.

"Have fun at the beach, Harry," Hermione muttered, glaring at the half frozen pie.

"Did you tell him about Fortescue's?" asked Lavender.

Hermione's frown turned into a sly grin, "I decided he should find out for himself." She glanced up at Lavender who was shaking her head.

"What?"

"You should've just told him," Lavender said reasonably.

"And spoil the surprise? Nah. He'll find out in all good time. Oh and when he comes back I'm '_not here_'," Hermione said contemplating the pie again.

Lavender laughed and rolled her eyes, "Alright. But he'll know I'm lying."

"True. But by then I will've escaped out the back way."

Both girls laughed and went back to their pie predicament.

**A/N: **I hope what's going to happen isn't overly obvious, but in a way a kinda want it to be. Meh, ahwell, I'm not making much sense am I? Tell me what you think and if you personally think I made the right decision with the setting. I sure hope so. And I'd really like any ideas about where I can go from after Harry finds out what the surprise behind Fortescue's is and beats Hermione to a bloody pulp for not telling him (not literally of corse). All input wanted and looked at beyond appreciation.

-M.T. Froste


	3. Chapter Three

_Feels Good to Get Away, _a tale from the restless mind of M.T.Froste

-CHAPTER THREE-

The bike began to jump slightly as he sped at an alarming rate down the lane to the ocean. Harry didn't care about the fact that if the bike even clipped the edge of a stick lying on the road he would be flung forwards over the handlebars and probably get seriously injured. He was going to the beach and that was all that was running through his mind.

The amount of salt in the air gradually began to increase as he came over the top of the hill and the water came into sight. He took a deep breath and let the saltiness flood his lungs and mind, bringing back wonderful memories and feelings.

"How could I have stayed away from all _this _for _so long_?" he yelled into the wind and the bike went flying down the other side of the hill.

A smile came to his lips as he flew past Fortescue's looking as fascinating as ever, he saluted the house, past the for sale sign with the sold sticker slapped across the middle, past the end of the laneway and onto the single sandy track that lead down to the beach, past the- WAIT!

He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt. The _for sale _sign with the _sold _sticker slapped across the middle?

He let out a forced laugh, "No, no, no. I must have imagined it." He climbed off the bike and turned slowly. "I just imagined it that's all. The salt air's messing with my head," he muttered walking slowly back towards the old cottage, his bike left in the middle of the laneway.

"Oh no, no, _no, NO!_"

The sign stood there clear as day. Harry frowned, shaking his head.

"No way," he said reassuring himself, "it's not there, I'm seeing things."

He put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes a few times before looking back up.

"Aghh," he let out a frustrated scream and glared at the sign, willing it to go away and never come back.

Someone _cannot _have bought it, he thought angrily. Harry had known it had been for sale, it had been all his life, he knew one day someone would come along and fall in love with its simple but intriguing looks just like he had all those years ago. He knew it would be bought some day, he had always known, but now that it had happened… it was just _unbelievable._

He'd have to tell Hermione, it had always been their- …hang on.

---

Lavender stood behind the counter bracing herself as she watched Harry pedalling madly up the hill towards the store.

"Oh god, he looks pissed…" she quickly arranged her face into a pleasant look of surprise as he entered the store, throwing his bike to the ground outside.

"Harry, back so soon-"

"Where is she?" he demanded glaring around the shop.

Shit, I hope Hermione's running like hell, Lavender thought before smiling sweetly and replying, "Who? Hermione?"

"Yes Hermione!" spat Harry, slapping his palm down on the counter.

Lavender flinched, "Ah…she's not here. Just ducked out you see and ah-"

"Don't give me that shit Lavender. Where the bloody hell is she? She knew, didn't she- about Fortescue's?"

"She may have, I'm not really sure, we never talked about it."

"Woah, wait a second," Harry had managed to calm down and was now frowning at the girl before him, "You mean _you _knew aswell? Oh that's just great isn't it, the whole _bloody_ town knew except me."

"Yeah…pretty much," Lavender let out a sympathetic sigh. "But you should've seen who's bought it though, I've never seen anyone better lo-"

"Aha, that's wonderful Lavender," Harry interrupted as Lavender came over with a far away look on her face. The owner was good looking then, Harry pondered. He'd have to check it out later with Hermione: Lavender's judgement wasn't something to go on, she thought anyone who was young, single and male was good looking. Hermione had always been a better judge with things like this, which reminded him, "What I really need to know now is where Hermione is."

Lavender sighed, "Ok, fine. She's running home as we speak."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, "Knew I'd be back did she?"

"Oh she knew alright," Lavender checked her watch, "Well I think I've bought her enough time. She's got a pretty good head start, but she's forgetting one thing."

"What's that?" asked Harry grinning.

"The small fact that may decided whether she lives or not: she's on foot but you have a bike."

Harry smiled slyly. "Thanks Lavender, I owe you one."

"Anytime."

Harry turned to leave.

"Oh and Harry-"

"Mmm?"

"You didn't hear this from me."

Harry winked, "Sure thing, figured it all out by myself."

---

Harry peered in the window of Hermione's home and knocked on the door again. The door opened and Mr Granger appeared.

"Ah, Harry. Haven't seen you in ages. Come in. Hermione just arrived home herself, looked a bit flustered. Has something bad happened?"

"Not yet," Harry muttered under his breath. "No, we were just having a race."

"And you let my daughter beat you?" asked Mr Granger grinning at Harry and giving him a playful punch on the arm. "You're getting soft with your old age."

"Oh I know, but you have to let her win sometimes," Harry glanced past Mr Granger and saw an irritated looking Hermione glaring at him and her father from the top of the stairs. "You know how much of a sore loser she is," he continued, looking her in the eye.

Mr Granger turned around to see who Harry was looking at. "Dear, Harry's here," he said cheerfully.

"Yeah, I noticed. Thanks dad."

"I'll leave you two to get on with your races, I've got a tonne of work to do. It's good to see you again, Harry. You must come over for dinner sometime this week."

"Oh, it'd be my honour, sir," said Harry stooping into a low bow with a lot of hand fluttering and twirling.

Mr Granger chuckled and Hermione snorted form the stairs.

"Come on, Harry," she called.

Harry gave Mr Granger a quick smile and salute before taking the stairs two at a time.

He pushed the door to her room closed and turned to glare at her.

"How could you not have told me? How long have you known? How do you even know? You haven't been down that way in months!" yelled Harry, waving his arms madly.

"You done?" asked Hermione calmly and patted the bed next to her.

Harry walked over to the bed and sunk down cross-legged on the end, facing her.

"Ok, what do you want to know first?"

"How long have you known? How long has it been sold?"

Hermione leant back on her pillows against the bed's back board and closed her eyes, "I think it was a few weeks ago-"

"A _few_ weeks?" Harry stared in astonishment.

"Yeah that would be about right, because it was the weekend gran came to stay."

"And you didn't tell me because…?"

"I meant to, but then gran was here and I had to stay and keep her company while mum and dad were at work. You know how it is. So I _had_ planned to tell you Harry, I just didn't get time to go over and see you."

"I guess, but what about last week after she'd left? Why didn't you come and tell me then?"

"I guess it just slipped my mind."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh.

"It does happen Harry, people can forget things," Hermione defended.

"Ok, fine you're off the hook for that, you haven't seen me to tell me, fair enough. But what about this morning? You could've told me before I had to find out for myself."

"As I recall you had just insulted my cooking skills," she replied glaring at him.

Harry laughed, "Oh yeah. Well then, I suppose that excuses you. But how did you find out in the first place? If I haven't been to the beach in a month there's no way you have."

"I only found out by chance, if he hadn't've come into the store I probably would've been left in the dark about it all like you. Well, it was the Saturday afternoon before gran came to stay. I was in the back of the store packing the freezers. I could hear Lavender talking to someone on the phone but I wasn't really paying attention because that's nothing out of the ordinary. I finished packing the freezers and went up the front to the counter and there was this guy around our age waiting patiently, bloody Lavender hadn't even noticed he was there and it seemed he was too polite to interrupt her call. Anywho, he asked me if I knew where the real estate agency was and so I gave him directions and asked him if he was planning on moving into the village. He said he was and that he'd seen this amazing home down by the beach. I could only imagine he meant Fortescue's and so I told him all about it. He seemed really interested in everything I was saying. Then he left and said he hoped to see me around if he ended up moving in. So the next day I stopped by at Seamus's on the way to work and he said his father had told him that the house had been sold. It's been the talk of the town ever since. But I guess you haven't been down lately have you?"

"No," Harry muttered absently, still taking everything in, "no, I found this really good spot just out of town around the forest, everything's really beautiful around there. I just couldn't leave until I'd captured it all."

"You've been sitting around the forest drawing for past two weeks?" Hermione asked, "No wonder you don't know how much cereal's in your cupboards. I don't understand how you can bare staying out there all that time in just a tent."

Harry rolled his eyes, it was a discussion they'd had so many times before he'd lost count, "And I don't understand how you can spend all your time in that bloody store and I guess neither of us will understand. But who cares about that for now. So was this guy good enough for Fortescue's or should I prepare my knives so we can kill him in the night and make it look like he died of natural causes?" Harry joked.

Hermione laughed, "Oh no, we're not killing this one. You should've seen him Harry, his appearance was so…what's the word," Hermione stared at the wall chewing her lip, "_striking _is how I'd describe it."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "_Striking_?" he repeated.

"It's not everyday you see someone with white-blonde hair and grey eyes. I'd never seen anyone like him before in my life. He was…_amazing _really."

Harry noticed that girlie far away look creeping onto Hermione's face. So Lavender had been right about this one. "Hey, earth to Hermione."

Hermione came out of the daze and looked at him.

"He must be good looking to have you going all Lavender on me."

"Definitely. He could give you a run for your money, Harry." Hermione said, looking over at Harry's tanned skin, untamed hair and stunning green eyes.

"Is that so…?" said Harry deep in thought. "Someone who's got Hermione Granger this head-over-heels I have _got_ to meet."

Hermione blushed, "I am _not _head-over-heels!"

"Aha, sure you aren't, dear," said Harry patting her knee then bursting into a fit of laughter.

"But I agree you have got to meet him, Harry," she said seriously.

"Oh, I'm there," said Harry, " and maybe if he's as good looking as you say he is, I might give you a little competition for his heart."

Hermione scoffed at him but was still smiling. Harry had always been open about his sexuality. He had told her he was gay on his fifteenth birthday but it hadn't come as a shock to her, she'd had an inkling for a while. "Harry you don't even know if he's gay yet. You've never even met him, let alone set eyes on him."

"Hermione," said Harry seriously, "anyone who you say could give me, _me_, a run for my money in the looks department has got to be gay. No straight man's gonna out do Harry Potter."

Hermione laughed. "If you say so."

Harry looked at his watch, "Shit it's 8.30 and I still haven't been to the beach."

"Oh god, and I've left Lavender alone in the store, there's probably a queue of customer's waiting to be served."

Both teens jumped up from the bed and ran down the stairs, "Bye dad!" "Bye Mr Granger!"

"See you kids, good luck with your race. You can beat her this time Harry."

Harry laughed as Hermione closed the front door behind them and he picked up his bike. "Does he really believe we're running around town having races with each other?"

"Oh yeah. In his eyes we're still ten-years old and it was just yesterday you convinced me to jump from your parents first story roof and I broke my arm."

Harry laughed, good old Mr Granger, "It wasn't that high, I managed it alright, it wasn't my fault you missed the grass."

Hermione slapped him on the arm. Harry climbed on his bike and they set off in different directions.

**A/N:** Next chapter I'm going to go into detail in what Fortescue's actually looks like and I'll introduce Draco and Harry to each other.

Well that's about it for now altho I know as soon as I get home from school tomorow I won't be able to stop myself from starting on chapter four, so look out for it. If anyone has any questions, any suggestions or general comments I'm all ears.

until next time

- Madley-Tassida


	4. Chapter Four

_Feels Good to Get Away, _a tale from the charming but illogical mind of M.T.Froste

Thankyou all for the fan-bloody-tastic turn out in reviews. On ya guys! It's taken me a while to write this chapter because I knew where I wanted it to go but just not where to start it. I strained my mind long and hard and this is what I've finally come up with, I do hope it's up to the standards you guys are looking for. A word to the wise: I have a strange obsession with Gilderoy Lockhart, but fear not this is just a cameo appearance and he will not return ever again in the story, (unless I need a character to be hit by a bus (actually that's not a half bad idea, takes note)) but I just needed some one to shove into that particular scene and his personally seemed to fit perfectly with the effect I was looking for. I've also gone into as much detail in describing Fortescue's as was humanly possible, I hope it's how you all picture it, if not, scrap my description and let your imagination run wild and build one for yourself, because I think you'd do a far better job than what I've come up with. So feel free. Desriptions aren't really my forte.

So I hope you all enjoy and happy Easter. – Madley

-CHAPTER FOUR-

_**Malfoy Antiquity comes to an End**_

_One of the most prominent families of the few surviving heritage families of the past hundred years has been forced to endure a rude awakening as to where they stand in society after their soul heir walked out on the family heritage and all that it stands for. _

_The Malfoy family, known throughout the country for their purity in society and wealth, dating back to the early 1700's, and considered to be one of the most esteemed and highly thought of families in the country's history, had their linage cut short after heir to the family's renowned heritage and fortune, Draco Malfoy (17), left the family's Hillshire manor late yesterday afternoon, and vowed never to return. The family had been one of the most distinguished in its linage and it was thought the tradition would be upheld for numerous generations to come, any thoughts of this have now been cut short._

_Earlier this morning Lucius Malfoy told reporters the family will not be perturbed by the minor setback. The family heritage will reign on, as their son will return. "My son has merely reached an age of true understanding of what being in this family means and is simply overwhelmed by all that he must uphold in the years to come. It is something he must go through in order to grasp the meaning of what the family stands for. Upon understanding he will return."_

_Despite the composed faces put on for the cameras both parents appeared anxious for their son to return home. _

_Those associated with the family seem not as optimistic as the Malfoys about the young heir's return. Nor about the fact that anyone who would willingly walk out on such a prestigious title should be allowed so easily back into the family fold. When asked about the matter, one commented, "I respect Lucius's judgment and trust in his son, but if this had happened say a century ago, something like this wouldn't have been taken to with such ease. Once an heir left they were disowned, but in the case of the more respected families it wasn't seen fit to have a disownment written against the family name, in these cases the heir was merely cast aside and classed as a disgrace to the family name. Times and traditions have changed, I admit, but in my eyes 'once a disgraced heir, always one'."_

_The whereabouts of Draco Malfoy is not yet know…_

"Who writes this shit?" muttered Draco.

The man standing next to him glanced over at the paper he was reading, frowned at the picture captioned '_Disgraced heir, Draco Malfoy_', looked up at the boy holding the paper and then back to the picture.

Draco raised an eyebrow to the man's confused look, any minute now, he thought, it can't take that long to make the connection.

The man's puzzled frown increased as he looked at Draco for a third time and finally opened his mouth, gesturing at the photo in the paper the boy held, "Is that you?"

"No," said Draco flatly, looking away from the paper and out through the train's window at the countryside flashing past.

"Amazing that, the resemblance is uncanny," said the man gazing at the photo again.

Just for the fun of it, Draco brought the paper closer to his eyes and squinted at the photo of himself, "Yeah, now that you point it out I can really see the likeness."

"But having a closer look the nose is completely different to start with, not to mention you have higher cheek bones," the man pointed out.

Draco rolled his eyes at the man's denial of the blatantly obvious, but gave him a quick smile, liking the way he had so easily accepted the lie.

"You've got more character than this one looks like he could ever have," said the man nodding at Draco and returning the smile with a tooth-filled grin of his own. He held out a hand, "Gilderoy Lockhart."

Draco took the out stretched hand, but was struck with the problem of introducing himself after plainly denying being the young man in the photo. Instead he smiled and shook the hand, "Nice to meet you, sir."

It seemed to be enough for Lockhart. "Going away, I see," said Lockhart beaming and nodding at Draco's case. "Holiday is it?"

"Yep, been planning this one for a while," Draco lied, well half of it was true.

"What's a strapping young lad like yourself doing travelling alone? No lady friend, I see," said Lockhart glancing around the crowded carriage, "Or are we meeting up with her there. Oh yes, that'll be it, isn't it?" He didn't wait for the response, "You know this takes me back to my days when I was your age, went travelling myself, marvellous it was…"

Draco found himself steadily losing interest in the conversation and started to get irritated when Lockhart didn't take the obvious hints that he couldn't careless about the month the man had spent in Berlin and was relived to get away as the train pulled into the next station. "This's my stop. It was nice meeting you." He quickly escaped through the crowded carriage and out onto the quiet platform.

He threw the paper into the bin as he exited the station, wondering why he'd even bothered to buy it. '_Despite the composed faces put on for the cameras both parents appeared anxious for their son to return home.' _Jesus, he had never read such bullshit in his life. The day Lucius Malfoy put on a brave face for the cameras to try and hide the fact he was distraught from the loss of his beloved son, would be the day Draco would run naked through his new home's town centre. Likelihood of that: a big whopping zero, well perhaps a point five percentage chance- you can never tell these days when the urge to streak through town will become too much for one to handle.

Draco turned and looked up the main road and noticed the store he'd been in the other day. Carrying his case he headed towards it realising he'd need to get some food before he headed for his house, otherwise he'd have to walk all the way back after dropping off his case.

He entered the store and picked up a basket, dumping his case just inside the door. He wandered up and down the isles wondering what to get; he'd never had this kind of freedom in what he'd eaten. It had always been whatever the cook had prepared which had always been something he'd liked. There was also the fact that he was probably the first Malfoy to set foot inside a shop like this with the intention to buy something from it in about a hundred years.

He couldn't help but smile as he thought of this and then thought about how much his life was going to be changing in the years to come, hopefully for the better.

"Jesus, I don't even know how to cook," he suddenly realised as he stared at a packet of dried pasta.

"And no one can live on takeaway all their life," said a voice from behind him.

He spun round and came face to face with the girl he had met the other day.

He laughed, "So very true. It seems I'm going to have to learn."

"Ah cooking," she said shaking her head and staring at the packet of pasta in his hands, "A skill I'm still yet to master." She sighed and shook her head one last time before looking back at him and holding out a hand, smiling kindly. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Draco took the hand and smiled back at her, "Draco Malfoy."

She frowned and opened her mouth but Draco cut her off before she could say anything, "Yeah," he said with a grim look on his face.

She looked him up and down taking in his rain soaked hair that had now dried but was sticking out at odd angles, his still damp coat, the expensive branded shoes that were now sodden and encrusted with dirt and finally the pained look in his eyes to not let her judge him because of who he was.

Draco was shocked as she smiled sympathetically at him. No one had ever done that before, people had always looked at him, seen everything he and his family stood for and hated him for it, their eyes had always been filled with jealousy or just plain fear, no one ever knew how to react around him or what to say, but perhaps Hermione standing here now still smiling genuinely was a sign for what was to come.

"So Draco," she said looking away from him and gazing at the shelves around them, "What do you propose we get you for your first cooking lesson?" She turned back and beamed at him and Draco couldn't help but beam back.

An hour later the two new friends stood outside Fortescue's heavily ladenned with shopping bags. Draco lifted the catch on the gate and they stepped into the garden. Hermione had always been amazed at how well kept the garden had always looked considering no one looked after it. The wall was just above the height of a grown man and was so much covered in vines and ivy that the only part of the original wall visible was at the base where the ivy was yet to reach. The gate itself was made of blackened iron and was also entwined with the vine aswell as a pink flowered creeper. It was a metre and a half in height and the bars were a hand's width apart so you were able to look through it into the garden and see through to the cottage. Past the gate was a partially hidden cobblestone path leading to the front door. It seemed to wind its way through the lush green foliage of the sunny yellow lilies with their open trumpet shaped flowers, past the scattered bushes of the regal looking flowers coloured in shades of red, orange and pink with their ruffled petals and around the delicate icy white leaved bushes of the winter irises. In the corner of the garden stood a magnificent flame tree, surrounded by all the flowers, which Harry and Hermione had always longed to climb. Its branches grew higher then any other tree in the village and were covered in the beautiful golden leaves and blossoms, some of the branches had tangled their way into those of the oak that stood next to it giving off a wonderful contrast between the soft greens and honeyed reds and oranges.

The two of them stopped where they were standing on the path up to their knees in blossom, taking in the beauty of it.

"Wow," Hermione breathed. After spending half their life fantasising about the house neither she nor Harry had ever set foot inside it, let alone the garden. "You can't even see the lawn," she exclaimed. And it was true, not one patch of grass was visible under the shrubs and blossoms, it was like the whole of the ground had lifted a few feet in the air and began where the top of the plants were seen. The whole thing was now covered in a wash of colour and greenery.

"After growing up at the manor you become quite sick of the sight of perfectly mowed lawn everyday of your life," said Draco as he waded through the flowers up to the cottage door.

The cottage was two stories but only because of the small loft that stuck out of the brown roof swarming with purple wisteria. The walls were white but two thirds of them were covered in ivy and a creeper with peach blossom. Most of the windows had creepers growing through their decorative fine bars and looking at the door it seemed it was going to be a bit of work to unravel the ivy from the handle. All the windows where equip with open green wooden shutters going along with the motif of the green wooden leadlight front door.

Draco placed his case and the few shopping bags he was carrying at his feet and pulled the key from his pocket, placing it in the lock and turned it. He pried the ivy away from the handle saying, "God, that stuff grows quickly I've gotten it off the handle the past three times I've been here."

He turned the handle and pushed open the door as Hermione stood watching with bated breath thinking, Harry's going to be livid when he finds out I've been inside.

They shuffled inside and Draco closed the door behind them and hung his coat on the hook in the entrance hall. He shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, he was finally here, he'd done it.

Hermione was shocked to find the house already full of furniture. Draco noticed this and smiled. "I've been moving it all in slowly over the past two weeks."

She nodded and walked into the room next to the entrance hall, which turned out to be the lounge. In the corner of the room stood an antique looking desk and chair next to a beautiful bookcase filled with novels and encyclopedias. Hermione resisted the urge to rush over and grab the closest one and settle down on the green velvety looking couch and begin to read. Next to the couch were two black high backed chairs and despite their appearances turned out to be extremely comfortable when Draco offered her a seat as he went to put the shopping in the kitchen and his case in his room. In the centre off the chairs was a small wooden coffee table and against one wall was a cosy looking fireplace. Hermione couldn't help but notice how bare the mantle looked with only one framed picture on it of a small blonde boy looking fondly at a small ball of white fur he was cradling in his arms. Not one picture of any of his family or friends. I suppose that makes sense, she told herself but she felt something twinge painfully in her heart as she thought about it.

"I'm going to find some friends to sit with you on this mantle," she told the small boy in the photo.

Draco came back into the room closely followed by a beautiful looking cat with pure white fur and ice blue eyes. "This is Beatrix," he said as Hermione eyed the cat. "Poor thing's been stuck here the past week. I had to drop her off with a large supply of cat food which she seems to have managed to have gotten through extremely quickly seen as there was more than enough for at least two weeks," he frowned at the slim cat who turned and looked almost guiltily at him. "I didn't know how long I'd be," he explained. "So I left more than was needed." He squatted down in front of the cat and began whispering to it. Hermione, only picking up a few snippets of 'you'll get fat if you do that again' and 'you've done a good job looking after the place I must say', smiled at the boy and was reminded strongly of Harry.

"So," said Draco standing up, "How about that cooking lesson?"

Hermione laughed as they headed towards the kitchen, "I'm warning you now I'm probably the worst person to teach you."

"You can't be that bad," said Draco reasonably. "At least you _know_ how to cook."

"I suppose," she said helping him unload the shopping bags onto the bench. "But some would say differently."

"Really?" Draco turned from putting the fruit in a bowlon the dining room table and raised an eyebrow. "You're that bad?"

"You'll have to wait and see."

---

After entering the kitchen to find black smoke billowing from the oven they had given up on the rest of the cooking lesson. The attempted vanilla cake had turned into a charred mess far beyond any efforts of resurrection.

Despite the failure they had had fun. There was the point when Hermione had started swearing at the mixture for not sticking together and Draco had pointed out, with a slight smirk playing on his lips, that she had forgotten to put the eggs in. The shade of red she had turned had been priceless and Draco's smirk had turned into a fit of laughter, which resulted in him finding a smashed egg dripping down his face.

"Oh you're dead," he had stated glaring at her, wiping egg from his hair and picking up a handful of mixture. Hermione had sprinted from the room after seeing the glint of revenge in eyes and the newly replaced smirk on his lips but wasn't able to get out quick enough and was hit in the back of the head.

"I knew I should've called Harry to help," said Hermione sitting on the couch, "But that would've meant admitting he was right and I can't cook."

"But you can't," said Draco from his chair, stroking the cat in his lap and dodging the pillow thrown at him. "C'mon Hermione, isn't the state of my oven enough to prove that?"

"Bloody hell, not you too," she said frustrated.

Draco laughed, "Why don't you just admit defeat?"

"Because he'll never let me forget it, that's why. Besides, would _you_ ever admit defeat?" she threw back at him.

Draco didn't even have to think about it, "OK, stupid suggestion."

Hermione looked out the window and saw the sun was starting to set, "I better get home before it gets dark. But this was really fun, we should do it again sometime."

"But next time, please, no cooking," said Draco placing Beatrix on the floor and getting up from the chair to walk Hermione to the door.

"OK, I admit I cannot cook for shit," she grinned and walked out the door, "But don't tell Harry I said that or I'll kill you."

"Oh, I'd like to see you try," sneered Draco, but the sneer quickly turned into a smile.

"I'll see you round Draco, drop by the store anytime you want and I'll introduce you to Lavender and maybe we'll be able to find Harry if he's not off in some forest somewhere 'capturing it all' as he says," she rolled her eyes and grinned. "Bye."

"Bye." Draco shut the door and slid down it onto the carpet beaming. He had never had more fun in his life; his parents would be spinning in their graves (not literally of course considering they were both unfortunately alive and well) if they knew what he'd been up to.

He leant against the door with his eyes closed for a while until a strong smell of salt wafted through the open lounge room window towards him.

He quickly jumped up, an idea hitting him and he rushed into the shower, washing all the egg and mixture from his hair, face and arms and towelled off. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a white polo shirt and walked out the door, "I'm off to the beach," he called out to Beatrix who opened one eye to acknowledge him before going back to sleep.

The sun was low in the sky as Draco walked out on the soft white sand carrying his shoes. He carefully rolled up the bottom of his pants and stepped into the shallows of the water. The water lapped around his ankles sending cool shivers through his body. He stood still admiring the view of the sunset but was rudely interrupted by some high-pitched giggling. He looked over his shoulder and saw two girls clinging onto one another and laughing madly as they ran in and out of the water squealing. They kept glancing over their shoulders at a boy who was sitting on one of the dunes clearly trying to get his attention. Draco watched as one of them pushed the other over causing her friend to scream and quickly look back to see if they'd been noticed. The boy on the dune didn't even look up; he seemed oblivious to their not so subtle attempts for his attention. Instead he seemed to be concentrating on the sketchpad leaning against his knees. Draco left the water and went to sit on the sand in a place where he could observe both the boy and the girls. Where he was sitting the squeals weren't as loud but he now found he was in range of the boy. A particularly loud squeal and cry of "Han-naah!" caught his ears followed by a frustrated sigh. Draco turned and saw the boy's face was now visible as he had looked up from his work and was now glaring at the girls. Draco's breath caught as he took in the stunning green eyes and dark windswept hair. The boy shook his head before shifting his attention back the pad. Draco kept watching him, hoping for another look at those eyes. He didn't have to wait long before the air was cut with more ear piercing laughter and the boy looked up, slamming his sketchbook shut, muttering, "for fuck's sake."

Draco couldn't help but smile at the comment. The boy put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples a few times before looking up again, this time his focus was on Draco. Draco suddenly realised he had been watching the young man for the past five minutes at least, he must've noticed. The boy stared at him for a few seconds frowning slightly before smiling. Draco's heart skipped a beat and he forced himself to stop staring stupidly as the boy started to frown at him after getting no response. Draco quickly smiled and the boy stopped frowning and smiled again before picking up his sketchbook and getting up. He looked one more time at Draco before walking up the path back towards the town.

Draco lay back in the sand, mind buzzing, grinning foolishly but not knowing why. The girls interrupted his thoughts and he decided to follow suit by getting up and walking up the same path the boy had taken.

As he reached his gate and waded through the shrubs and blossom he had decided one thing, he was going to the beach tomorrow and he hoped like hell _he'd_ back tomorrow, there was something about that boy Draco couldn't quite place yet but whatever it was, was too intriguing to let pass by.

**A/N: **Yeah, I admit, not much of a first meeting, I know, appologies all round. And if i was you guys and I was reading this story i reckon i'd feel pretty ripped off, heh, yeah sorry about that. But the next chapter will hold an actual _actual_ meeting which will involve more than smiling, perhaps even actual conversation- GASP! But I dunno that'd be asking a lot. lol. No I promise it will, they'll talk.

And I have a question for all you fanfic obsessors, when does a rating go from T to M? And where does kissing fit in under all that? I know it's probably written in the guidlines, but can anyone seriously be screwed reading them.

Also another question: should Harry's parents be dead? I'm leaning towards yes, but what do you guys think? Thanks to my annonymous reviewer- ARandomPerson, for bringing it up.

Until next time- Madley-Tassida


	5. Chapter Five

_Feels Good to Get Away,_ a tale from the composed mind of M.T.Froste

The first actual _actual _meeting has finally decided to grace us with its presence.

-Madley

-CHAPTER FIVE-

Hermione had said something about going to the beach today with Harry. He hoped they'd be there and then perhaps he'd be able to ask them who the boy he'd seen the other day was and of course get to meet Harry. From what Hermione had told him about Master Potter, Draco had concluded the boy sounded like a bit of an attention seeker. Although he sounded like he held all the traits for a great friend: kind, funny, smart, caring. Draco didn't want to be one to judge someone before he met them because that meant falling to level of everyone that had done that to him, but as Hermione told him about all the things the pair had gotten up to over the years the amazing Harry had started to sound a lot like an arrogant show-off.

Draco entered his kitchen clad only in his boxers, wondering what to have for breakfast. He pulled the box of nutri-grain from the cupboard and a carton of milk from the fridge. He poured the cereal into a bowl and the milk over the top, smiling at the cat sitting on the bench next to him.

"Now this is the kind of cooking I can handle," he said, putting a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

If Draco hadn't been sure of his sanity he could've sworn the cat had rolled her eyes at him.

He poured a saucer of milk for Beatrix when he was done with his own breakfast and went to shower.

Half an hour later he left the house now wearing his jeans from yesterday and an ice blue polo shirt. He locked the door and shoved the keys into his jeans' pocket. Walking down the cobblestone path he noticed something sticking out of his mailbox. On closer inspection it was the morning paper. He reluctantly pulled it out and decided to read it once he got to the beach seen as it was only 9am and he doubted Hermione and Harry would be there yet.

Draco settled down cross-legged on the warm sand, paper laying open in front of him ready to read about the latest theories of when he would be returning home and how devastated his parents were.

---

"Fine! Don't Come! Go to your precious shop!" Harry spat into the phone.

"Harry, don't do this to me. Don't get mad. Lavender's sick I've already explained, I have to go," Hermione's voice said calmly back.

"But you promised!" Harry was grasping at straws.

"I realise that, but what to want me to do? Ring up work and say 'Oh I'm sorry, I can't come in today because I told someone I'd go to the beach with them'."

"Yes!" Harry spat back, "Because you did!"

"Oh for god's sake, Harry!" Hermione was finding it hard to control her temper. "I'm going to work and that's final! I'm not stopping you from going so I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of it! Goodbye."

Harry slammed the receiver down and slumped down onto the couch in a sulk. Who the hell did she think she was cancelling on him like that? She had promised. She couldn't just do that.

After a while he started to calm down and the rational side of his brain seemed to kick back into action. Why _had_ he made such a big deal about it? Good question. Hermione's decision had been one he would've made himself. Her job had always been the major priority in the situation. Of course she had to go to work when Lavender was sick, there was no one else to ask. And she could go to the beach with him any old time, it wasn't like they'd wake up the next morning and find it wasn't there anymore. Now that he thought about it, he felt slightly embarrassed about the way he had reacted. He made a note to drop in at the store and apologise.

He let out a deep sigh and looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room: only 9 o'clock. He still had the whole day ahead of him though it'd be starting later than the planned 6am.

Seen as he was still slightly heated from the conversation, he decided to walk to the beach today so he could calm down entirely- something it was hard to do whilst straining your muscles and having your blood pumping ferociously from riding up and down hills.

He picked up his sketchbook and the canvas bag with all his art supplies in and locked the door, slipping the key under the mat. Not in the right state of mind for wall jumping he put his gate to use- something that was rarely done.

Walking along glancing at people's gardens and wondering why they bothered keeping them so prim and neat, he started to think that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad going to the beach without Hermione. It would mean he would have some time to just sit, draw and relax, not having to bother about anyone else and what they wanted to do. And perhaps if he was lucky that boy that had been there yesterday would be back again. He sure hoped so. Harry caught himself grinning stupidly and quickly stopped. He would not act like a love-starved girl, but it now made sense what Hermione had meant by _striking. _He had sure been something. Maybe Hermione had gone a bit too far in saying he could beat Harry in looks, but Harry had to admit it would be a pretty tough competition. Harry felt the foolish smile creeping back onto his face and gave up trying to keep it away; he couldn't help it if Fortescue's owner was ridiculously good-looking.

As Harry walked down the pathway between the dunes he still had the blonde on his mind. Wondering if the boy _was_ gay- he seemed like someone who cared about his appearance but then these days that didn't really count for anything. And if he did end up being gay would Harry have a chance with him?

Harry was still pondering these thoughts when he suddenly felt the crunch of bones and joints under his foot and heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry," he dropped to his knees and picked up the slim hand to inspect the damage. The joints on two of the fingers were bright red and were gradually turning a nasty shade of blackened-blue. "Shit, I'm sorry," he said again, turning the hand over to examine the other side, "I wasn't lo-" Harry had looked up from the hand he was holding to see who the owner was and was shocked to find himself staring into a pair of piercing silver eyes.

"You weren't what?" asked Draco a little more coldly than he had meant. The boy was staring at him, deciding not to miss the opportune moment to study the face at such close proximity Draco swept his eyes swiftly over each feature lingering for a few seconds on the rosy lips before returning back to the green gaze. He raised an eyebrow to the unreadable expression on the young man's face.

"Sorry," Harry said realising he was staring. "I wasn't looking where I was going and…" he let out a sympathetic 'mmm' as he looked back down at the hand.

He could feel the grey eyes on him. God, I'm such an idiot, Harry thought angrily, why the hell wasn't I looking where I was going?

Because you were too busy thinking about the boy whose hand you're _still_ holding, a voice in the back of his head told him, and now you've blown all your chances out the window by practically breaking his fingers.

Draco frowned, overly aware of the boy's soft hand holding his own. He swallowed slowly and looked down at his hand for the first time, wincing as he took in the puffy blackened joints.

"I know it looks shocking," said Harry watching the boy carefully as he gingerly bent and stretched his damaged fingers. "But you've got to admit, they've turned the most beautiful shade of blue."

Harry was hit with a wave of relief as he watched the silver eyes light with laughter and the downcast lips curl into a smile. The uncomfortable dread that he had ruined everything slowly began to ease as the boy looked at him with a look of laughing disbelief on his face that Harry could say something like that about a pair of swollen fingers. Harry grinned and suddenly got an idea. He turned around and began rummaging through his bag that he dropped next to him. He pulled out a jar and a tin.

"I'll be right back," he said to the boy, getting up and walking down to the water's edge with the jar.

Draco watched him squat down and dip the jar into the water, filling it to the brim. He stood back up and began to walk back towards Draco smiling as they caught each other's eyes. Draco went back to inspecting his hand feeling a little uncomfortable under the boy's emerald gaze.

The two swollen fingers were indeed a brilliant shade of blue around the joints and were stiffening fast making it harder for Draco to move them.

"It looks really painful," said the boy. Draco looked up to find him sitting down next to him with yesterday's sketchbook open on his lap. "I feel awful," he continued, opening up the tin to reveal a pallet of watercolour paints and pencils, and a paintbrush. He picked up the paintbrush and dipped it into the jar of water before looking up at Draco, "I hope you weren't planning on using that hand anytime soon because it looks like it's going to be out of action for a hell of a long time, which is adding to my guilt. But I think I may have a solution."

"Oh really?" said Draco leaning back onto his elbows and watching as the boy bit his lip trying to decide on a colour.

"Yes," he said slowly, eventually choosing a creamy peach and collecting some colour on the brush. "I think it will be only fair if I let you break _my_ fingers."

Harry looked up to see the reaction to the suggestion. The boy was looking at him with disbelief again.

"You can't be serious," he said as a laugh escaped his lips.

If Harry had thought the boy had looked good before, watching the charming face break into a smile and laugh took it to a whole new level.

"I'm dead serious." Harry held out his right hand and covered his eyes with his left. Peaking through his fingers he said, "Be quick though, I don't think I'll be able to last if you draw it out."

Harry watched, grinning as the boy glanced at the outstretched hand.

Draco sat up and took the hand, turning it over in his fingers admiring the fine bone structure. "It would be satisfying I have to admit," he reluctantly let go of the boy's hand and returned to the green gaze, "But I could never break anything so delicate."

Harry stopped grinning. Had he heard that correctly? He searched the grey eyes and discovered a hint of mischief. The smile returned to his lips, he could've sworn the young man was flirting with him. "It's not that hard. I managed it," he replied eyeing the injured hand.

Draco laughed, "So you did." He watched as the boy picked up the paintbrush again and began to brush fine lines onto the paper. Gradually the outline of a hand appeared in shades of soft peaches and creams. He washed the brush in the jar and went back to the picture this time with a chosen blue.

"Are you painting my hand?" Draco asked in awe as clear bruises were brushed over the fingers.

"Attempting to," said Harry, "But I don't think I can get the blue right…" he trailed off biting his lip again and added some purple. "You know I don't even know your name," he said suddenly, "But I can understand if you don't want to tell me. Wouldn't be too keen on telling someone who just virtually broke my fingers mine." He looked up from the page and smiled. "But then I'd be left having to call the painting 'The still amazingly exquisite hand of Fortescue's owner after being rudely crushed by me'."

"Some title," said Draco.

"That's why it'd be easier to name if I knew your name," said Harry pulling out his best charming grin.

Draco rolled his eyes but found himself grinning back, amazed at the green-eyed boy's ability to charm his way into finding out exactly what he wanted. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry stared at Draco, thoughtfully running the name through his head. _Draco Malfoy. _It had a sense of power and dignity to it. He liked it.

Draco watched as the boy stared at him and replied to the calculating look, "Yes, Draco Malfoy the disgraced Malfoy heir."

Harry glanced down to the paper Draco was looking at and noticed the headline '_Faith in Malfoy Heir's Return Falters_'

The green-eyed boy smiled, "Sorry, I don't read the papers much so that means nothing to me." He flashed another charming grin, "But I'm honoured to meet you Draco Malfoy, disgraced heir or not." He bent into a good attempt at a bow from sitting position.

Draco watched as he picked up a watercolour pencil and began to add in some of the finer details on the hand. "So why are you drawing my hand?" he asked as a nail appeared at the top of the index finger.

"I seem to have a habit of not being able to just walk past anything that catches my eye. Seeing it just isn't enough, so," he drew in the sharper detailed creases around the joints; "I capture it." He drew one last line and held the picture in front out in front of himself, tilting his head to the side frowning.

'…_I capture it...' _The words echoed in Draco's head.

'…_and maybe we'll be able to find Harry if he's not off in some forest somewhere 'capturing it all' as he says…'_

"What's wrong? It's not that bad is it?" Harry had turned to see Draco frowning at him and was hoping like hell he hadn't said something wrong.

"Oh no, the painting's really…" Draco trailed off and stared at the corner of the painting. There in fine black ink was the initials _HP_.

Harry was watching him carefully, a worried look on his face, "Draco?"

The silver eyes snapped towards him, "What's your name?" the blonde demanded in a hurried voice.

Bloody hell, thought Harry, I forget to introduce myself. Great one Harry, _just great_.

"Harry. Harry-"

"Potter?" finished Draco.

Harry nodded frowning.

So here he was. The boy who had convinced Hermione to jump from a roof because he had told her it was safe resulting in her arm to be in a cast for two months, the boy who wouldn't let his best friend forget that she was a hopeless cook, the boy who up until meeting him Draco had been convinced was an arrogant prat.

Yet looking into those green eyes… the charming smile… the windswept hair…

Draco put his head in his hands, muttering, "This doesn't make sense. I need to get away. I need to think."

He looked up. Harry was watching him, his face still plastered with concern. "Draco, are you ok? Did I say something wrong?" He reached out and put a hand on Draco's arm, but feeling the boy tense he let go immediately. "If it's something I've done I'm really sorry."

Draco looked into the worried green eyes and looked away after seeing all the emotion filling them. "No, it's nothing. I just…I've got to go."

Harry watched in shock as Draco abruptly got to his feet and walked past him frowning at the sand without looking back.

"Why?" was the only word Harry could softly whisper as he watched Draco disappear between the dunes.

**A/N:** Did it make sense? I sure hope so. Well I attempted fitting my summary/teaser in, it got a little broken up and changed but it's still there in a way. You know now that I think about it, I seriously doubt stepping on someone's hand that's resting on sand would result in something like that. But pff wateva, I'll let you guys decidefor yourselves whether that's possible or not.

So I do hope I haven't let you down or disapointed any of you. If so suggestions on where I went horribly wrong and the story took a serious down hill turn much appreciated to be pointned out. (not really in a possitive state of mind at the moment after watching Gallipoli, so this probably wasn't the best time to post but I did anyway) so there you have it another chapter.

-Madley-Tassida


	6. Chapter Six

_Feels Good To Get Away, _a tale from the saddened mind of M.T.Froste

Well, another overwhelming response to the last chapter and there seems to be a lot of pro-hand crushing out there. That's interesting. But I say yes, definitely, I'm all for a good hand crushing. Now, for those of you who were a little distressed and confused over Draco's sudden exit last chapter, fear not, all is explained.

Without further ado, enjoy etc. - Madley.

-CHAPTER SIX-

Hermione leapt up from the couch as she heard the door open. She watched as Harry pulled the canvas bag from his shoulder and dumped it carelessly to the floor. There was a definite crack that could only have meant glass breaking as the bag hit the ground. Her eyes flicked from the bag to Harry, who didn't seem to register what the sound had meant, let alone hear it.

Something was definitely wrong. She had been waiting for him to come home and possibly have a good shout at her for letting herself into his house without his permission, especially after what had passed between them that morning. But now…

"Harry," she said softly.

The green eyes frowned and he slowly turned to see her for the first time.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," replied the boy, "I'm fine, nothing's wrong."

He dropped the sketchbook onto the coffee table and a few loose pages fluttered to the floor.

Harry slumped down into his soft warm couch and put his head in his hands. No, this wasn't what he needed. He suddenly got to his feet and walked past Hermione and her distinct look of concern.

"I'm going to have a shower," he called out walking down the hall and up the stairs. "And stop worrying. I'm fine."

Hermione shook her head. She'd get it out of him soon enough.

She went over to the bag at the door and looked inside to inspect the damage. Shattered glass littered the bag's insides. She carried the bag to the dining room and dragged the wastepaper bin from the corner of the room to beside the table. Carefully she emptied the contents of the bag onto the table making sure no shred of glass escaped.

She cautiously went about pulling paintbrushes and pencils from the debris and putting them in organised piles. A few tubes of paint had been punctured and would have to be binned. She was sad to see that the watercolour tin she had given Harry for Christmas was now smeared with paint and most of the tubes that had been ruined had been from her too. But it felt good to know he used them.

She brushed all the glass into the bin and any remaining bits of rubbish: pencil sharpenings and the like. She then opened up the watercolour tin and carefully removed the paint tray, the pencils and paintbrush. Both the tin and canvas bag needed to be washed so neither would stain with the paint.

In the kitchen she filled the sink with hot soapy water and put both tin and bag in to soak. She then went back through the dining room, down the hall and into Harry's bedroom to the large cupboard in the corner of the room. She pulled the door open to reveal a mass of art supplies. She grinned as she read her way through the different types and colours of paints, paper, pencils and dyes. She always loved looking in this cupboard. She spotted the exact same colour paint as the tubes that had been destroyed, shifted the easel aside and grabbed a tube of each. Looking around the cupboard she decided to get Harry another paintbrush and pulled open a few of the small drawers on one shelf. Inside the drawers were arranged like cutlery drawers, with a different section for each type and size of brush. She selected a thin .5 bristle after noticing that Harry's current one was looking slightly dead.

"Can't keep you away from that cupboard, can I?" said a voice from behind.

Hermione closed the drawers, "You better be decent, Harry. I don't want to turn round and find my best friend standing there naked."

Harry laughed, "Don't worry, you'll be spared."

" 'You'll be spared'? Sounds as though if I turn round and check I'll find you starkers, but god won't have the urge to strike me with lightning."

"Of course he won't." Harry wandered over to his chest of draws towelling off his hair. He dropped his towel around his waist and quickly pulled on a pair of boxers and crumpled jeans, "Because we all know it's your sick dream to see a gay man naked."

He laughed silently as Hermione suddenly stood bolt upright.

"Just tell me if I can turn round already," she said in an agitated voice.

"OK," Harry pulled a jumper over his head.

Hermione walked over to him jabbing a finger into his chest, "Even if my '_sick dream' was_ to see a gay man naked, it most certainly would _not_ be you."

"Oh, so you're not denying that you would like to," Harry pointed out grinning.

Hermione let out a frustrated scream and left the room yelling back, "You're sick Harry!"

Harry rolled his eyes, closed the cupboard door and picked up a paint tube Hermione had dropped. He put the paint on the table with everything else and went into the kitchen.

"Had dinner?" he called out.

"No," Hermione walked into the room and hopped up on one of the benches.

"What do we feel like then?" Harry opened the pantry. "I can fix us up some bolognaise."

"Now that would be good," replied Hermione.

"So what were you doing in here when I got home?" Harry asked pulling some mince from the meat keeper.

"I got here at around five after work. I came to say sorry for this morning but I can come to the beach on Thursday, not tomorrow though because Lavender's still-"

"Oh yeah," Harry interrupted putting the fry pan on the stove and putting the mince on to cook, "I meant to drop by and apologise for that. I didn't mean to get so upset about it all."

"Yeah, I figured that," said Hermione watching Harry dice an onion. "So I came and I'd been waiting outside for over an hour and it was starting to get dark and pretty cold too, so I let myself in- the key's over there on the dresser- and I sat around for a bit and then it was eight and you still weren't home. I started thinking maybe you hadn't gone to the beach in the end, that maybe you'd gone off to the forest again and were staying the night. But then I found that the tent was still in the cupboard and I started to get worried and thought I should probably stick around to make sure you got home alright and nothing was wrong."

"Yeah, I was at the beach," said Harry. Hermione noticed the laughter that had been in his voice before had disappeared.

"What happened?" she voiced the question carefully so as not to sound to eager or nosy to know.

"I met young Fortescue's owner," Harry scraped the onion from the board into the pan.

Hermione grinned, "What did you think of him? I think he's great. He's a lot like you, you know." Hermione saw Harry wasn't smiling, that was odd. "Didn't you two get along?"

"Oh no, complete opposite really," Harry chucked some basil and tomato into the pan and began pushing everything back and forth with the spatula. "Everything was going great, apart from stepping on his hand."

Hermione watched as a smile came to Harry's lips and laughed, "You didn't do it purposely, did you?"

"No," Harry turned and rolled his eyes at her. "Jesus Hermione, I can just imagine it," he put on a sarcastic voice, "Oh look there's Fortescue's owner, I wonder what the best way to get his attention would be? Ah! I've got it, I'll practically break his fingers and see what kind of reaction that gets me." He raised an eyebrow to Hermione before turning back to the pan shaking his head.

Hermione laughed, "Are his fingers alright?"

Harry shrugged.

"So what happened after the finger incident?' she persisted.

"As I said, everything was going fine and then," Harry frowned at the wall in front of him, "I don't know, I must've said something wrong or something 'cause suddenly he went sort of funny. Then he said he had to go all of a sudden and left."

"Did he say why?"

Harry shook his head and pulled a packet of pasta from the pantry. "That's why it must've been something I said, but I don't know what, I mean everything was going _so well_."

"OK, so, tell me what you were talking about before he went funny," Hermione watched Harry fill a pot with water and set it to boil.

"Um…" Harry closed his eyes and leant back on the bench. "I was painting his hand and he asked why, I explained how I capture things…" He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione, "He asked what my name was and I told him. I think that was when he became kind of distant."

"Aha, anything else?" Hermione was pacing up and down the room biting her lip.

"He put his head in his hands and was saying something but I couldn't hear. I put my hand on his shoulder and he flinched, that probably wasn't the best thing to do. And that's when he left, just said 'I have to go' and walked off."

"So it was only once he learnt your name that he changed his attitude towards you…" Hermione suddenly felt guilty. The conversation she had had with Draco yesterday probably hadn't had Harry come across as the greatest of people. "Um, Harry?"

"What?" Harry had been watching the girl carefully and it was pretty clear she knew something he didn't.

"I, ah, I may be the cause for…" she trailed off.

"What?" Harry gripped her by the shoulders, "What have you done?"

"Well, we'd been cooking you see and you know how cooking puts me in such a positive state of mind," she glanced up at Harry hoping for a laugh or stab at her cooking skills but after not receiving one, she went back to inspecting the back of her hand, "Basically, the way I told him about you may not have been the best first impression for someone to have."

"Shit Hermione. What did you say?"

"It was the cooking's fault really, I was in a pretty ticked off mood after our cake didn't work and so I think I might've been focussing a bit too much on some of your worse traits when describing you."

"Oh," Harry turned round and went back to putting the pasta into the pot.

"I'm sorry Harry. I didn't know he'd take in everything I was saying like that. Most of the stuff I didn't really mean."

"Like what?" Harry ladled up some of the sauce and tried some, then grinded some pepper over the lot.

"You being such a bastard for always harassing my cooking skills for one."

"But you know I'm not serious when I say those things," he pulled two bowls from the cupboard and began scooping pasta into both.

"I know that, yes, but the way I said it may not have sounded as though I did," Hermione looked guiltily at Harry's back. "Don't worry, I'll fix things Harry."

"Fix things just like you messed things up in the first place?" Harry muttered ladling the meat and sauce on top.

Hermione scoffed, "I didn't know I was messing things up. But I know what I'll be doing this time. Besides it's a lot easier to tell someone the good traits about Harry James Potter than the bad."

"That's a plus," Harry said walking to the table with a bowl.

Hermione picked up hers and followed, "You don't sound very optimistic."

"Funny that."

"Oh come on Harry. It'll be fine, trust me, I'll have it all sorted out."

Harry sighed and sat down at the table, "OK, but just don't screw things up even more."

"I won't," Hermione promised.

Hermione left Harry that night in a slightly better mood. He'd cheered up over dinner and even showed her his picture of Draco's hand- _'The still amazingly exquisite hand of Draco Malfoy after being rudely crushed by me'-_ she had to laugh at his choice of title.

"I think you should give it to him," she announced, examining the painting, "It's really good."

"Do you think he'd want it?" Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder at the picture.

"Of course," she put the painting back on the coffee table and walked towards the front door.

"But why would anyone in their right mind want a picture that'll remind them they had their fingers broken," Harry followed her to the door.

"Oh I don't know. C'mon Harry, it's just nice to give someone something that was made especially for them and only them."

"Mmm. I'll think about it," he pulled open the front door and the cold air sprang into the house.

"And Harry, Mum and Dad would like to know if you're still up for coming around for dinner tomorrow. Dad especially, keeps talking about having more men in the house for a change."

Harry laughed, "Tell them I'll be there."

"Excellent." And perhaps, she thought to herself, I'll get someone else to be there too.

---

Draco woke from his restless sleep to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. He rolled over and glanced at the clock on his bedside table: 7am, Christ.

He was reluctant to leave the warmth of his bed but whoever was at the door was being annoyingly persistent and their knocks were growing louder.

Dragging his sleep infested body from under the covers he was hit with the icy morning air causing his body to explode with goosebumps. Figuring he wasn't particularly comfortable in answering the door in only a pair of boxers and bed socks he grabbed the closest pair of jeans and a thick grey jumper.

"I'm coming!" he yelled out causing the knocks to finally stop. "For god's sake I'm coming," he mumbled. The cat looked up with wide eyes as he came out of the bedroom and led him down the hall to the front door.

He wrenched open the door ready to yell at whoever it was for interrupting his sleep. It hadn't been good sleep, it felt like he'd only just managed to doze off when the knocking started, but still it was the principle of being woken for no important reason. "What?" he said irritably, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Wake you, did I?" Hermione grinned at him.

Draco had to resist the urge to scream at her for showing up unannounced at 7am in such a happy mood and ruining any chance he had of getting any sleep today.

"Yes," he spat, glaring at her and wondering how the hell anyone could be in such a good mood at this hour.

"Sorry, but I've got something I have to show you," she walked past him and into the house.

Draco groaned, "Can't it wait?" He followed her into the lounge.

"No, I have to be at work in an hour. So it's now or never." She sat down on the couch.

"Fine," Draco said collapsing into a chair. He was still annoyed but was now slightly curious at what she wanted to show him.

Hermione smiled before pulling a large book from her bag. Draco leaned in closer as she put it on the coffee table. It was a photo album.

"What's this?" he asked looking up at her.

"Visual aid," she got up and sat down on the floor next to his chair, putting the photo album on his lap.

Draco looked down at it. Written on the front in curly gold print was _H&H through the years…_

He frowned, "Hermione, what is this?"

"Open it," the girl suggested.

Draco carefully turned the cover page and found himself looking at two photos on the first page. The top one consisted of a group of six people: four adults and two children. The little girl had her hair in two bushy pigtails and was smiling sweetly. The two adults behind her could only have been her parents. But those three hadn't been the ones who had caught Draco's eye. Next to the little girl was a grinning boy with sparkling green eyes behind a pair of round glasses and messy dark hair. He was the spitting image of the man standing behind him but had the eyes of the woman with her arm around him in a protective manner that was smiling fondly at him.

"Is that…"

"Harry," said Hermione beaming, she had been watching where the grey eyes had been resting the whole time. They had looked at the little girl first, thenthe parents but had remained on the little boy the longest.

"He has glasses on," said Draco dragging his eyes away from the first photo and down to the second of just Harry and Hermione. Harry was lying on the grass and looked to be screaming with laughter with the little girl leaning over him and tickling him senseless. "Why doesn't he-"

"Contacts," Hermione said simply her smile growing even broader as Draco looked at Harry being tickled to death and began to smile.

He turned the page.

"Oh, now this is one I wanted to show you," Hermione pointed at the photograph in the top right hand corner. It showed the two of them around ten years old. Hermione had her arm in a cast and Harry had his in what looked to be a homemade sling. "This is when we jumped from the roof. Harry felt so bad that I broke my arm when I hadn't even wanted to do it. But he convinced me it was safe and I'd be alright- he has this ability to easily win people over, it's quite annoying- and besides he had already jumped and I wasn't about to look weak in front of him so I did it. When he found out my arm was broken he felt dreadful, so he decided for as long as I couldn't use my arm he wouldn't use his- hence the sling." She looked at Draco who seemed to be deep in thought.

As Hermione spoke Draco observed the ten year old Harry and was reminded of yesterday when Harry had offered to have his own fingers broken.

They went through a few more pages in the thick album Hermione occasionally pointing pictures out and explaining stories behind them.

At ten to eight Hermione got up, "I better get going I don't want to be late, but you can keep the album for now and have a look at the rest of the photos."

She smiled at the blonde staring at a picture of Harry attempting a handstand only to have his shirt fall down over his eyes, with her in the background pointing and laughing.

"Thanks," said Draco, "I'll get it back to you as soon as possible."

"How about tonight?" said Hermione her eyes full of mischief.

Draco looked up from the page and raised an eyebrow, "Tonight?"

"I told my parents about you and Mum insists you come over for dinner," Hermione smiled sweetly.

"Oh, ok," said Draco, "Sure, that'd be nice. I'll bring the album."

"Great," said Hermione cheerfully. She rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a scrap of paper and pen and scrawled something across the paper. "Here's my address, is six-thirty good for you?"

Draco took the paper nodding, Hermione lived on Leopold Avenue, "You live near the station."

"Yep, it's easy to find. Well I'd better go. See you tonight."

"Bye," Draco put the address on the mantle piece and sat back down in his chair, slowly turning the album pages deep in thought and fascinated.

**A/N: **I don't think I'll be able to post again soon (although I will try) but school is starting again next week and exams are coming up and that will be my main priority until then. So if I haven't updated in ages don't worry I won't have deserted the story, just putting it on hold for a while, it shouldn't be too long. And the way I see it the longer I have to think about the next few chapters and where I'm going with it all the better it shall be.

Any questions still after this chapter or about anything I'm happy to answer and I promise to get back to you as soon as possible.

So until next time which will hopefully be soon -Madley


	7. Chapter Seven

_Feels Good to Get Away,_ a tale from the weary mind of M.T.Froste, someone who realised they probably should make an appearnce after three months to destroy any theories that I may be dead.

**A/N: **Never underestimate you siblings.

* * *

-CHAPTER SEVEN-

"Three days, Lucius," Narcissa said looking out the window in the drawing room.

"I am well aware of how long it's been," the man said irritably.

"Yes, well, I just thought it was odd," Narcissa continued.

"Did you just?" Lucius muttered not looking up from the documents laid out on the oak coffee table in front of him.

"Yes," Narcissa turned from the window and walked slowly around the room. She stopped in front of her husband, who lowered his reading glasses down his nose and glanced briefly up at her.

"It seems you've underestimated your son," she stated. "What was it you said?" she tilted her head to the side and looked thoughtfully back out the window. "Home before dusk, wasn't it? But my dear, that was three days ago and I don't see him walking up the drive as we speak either."

"What's your point?" Lucius asked impatiently.

"My point is, I don't think Draco's coming back anytime soon," she sat down gracefully on the couch opposite her husband.

Lucius sighed and removed his glasses entirely, placing them on the table on top of the papers. "Three days is _nothing_. I have complete confidence in Draco's return and I know that he's smart enough to realise where he belongs is _here_. It's just taking longer than I expected for him to realise that."

"Of course," Narcissa smirked, "that must be it."

Lucius's lips went into a tight line. "Well then," he said coldly, "what are your thoughts on the subject, dear? If you think mine are worth snubbing."

"Quite frankly, I don't see how you expect to get your son back by just sitting here fluffing through papers."

"These _papers_," the man said, "are confirming that our son no longer has access to his portion of the family's money or any other part of it for that matter. I thought it was about time we stepped in and gave Draco a helping hand in his realization that he needs us."

Narcissa frowned, "You mean the money's only just been cut off? He could've accessed it over these past few days."

"Yes," Lucius said smugly. "He's had the opportunity to live free of this life as he wished. But when he finds that he's _completely_ free of what this life gave him, I don't think things are going to be looking so great. One can't exactly get very far without money."

"I shouldn't have doubted you, should I?" his wife said as she got up and came to sit down next to him.

"No, you never seem to win when you do, so I really wouldn't bother if I was you," he put an arm around his wife's shoulders.

Narcissa laughed, "Ok then Lucius, if you're going to go all high and mighty on me, how long till he returns now?"

"It really depends on when what little money he has left runs out. I'd say the end of the week at the latest."

Narcissa nodded against her husband's chest. "Where do you think he is?" she asked thoughtfully.

"That hardly matters."

"I'm serious Lucius, where could he have gone?"

The man sighed, "He's probably at a hotel nearby. He won't have gone far."

I hope so, Narcissa thought as she closed her eyes with her head lying against Lucius's chest.

Lucius looked down at his wife. "Don't worry dear, he'll be back." Looking at her worried face he decided not to mention that along with the confirmation of Draco's denied access, the bank had also pointed out that someone had been regularly withdrawing a specific amount of money from the account for the past few months. He knew that someone had certainly not been either him or his wife.

* * *

**A/N: **It's extemely short because I don't know if anyone would still be interested anymore so I didn't go all out on it. But of the 100 or so of you who have this story on alert and those who read it, I'd like to hear from you about whether you're still interested to read more, and if so, next chapter will be back to the land of H and D. 

Froste

And I'm replying to reviews directly now so any annonymous people, if you want to hear from me just leave an email address and i'll get back to via that.


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